Search
Close this search box.

Noah’s Hill by Shyamal Bhattacharya

You are right. Our soldiers are dying every day for their wrong policies.
Noah’s Hill by Shyamal Bhattacharya
Bookmark (0)

Do you know Nambudri, in our childhood, if ever our father came to know after our returning home, that we had been beaten up, he used to flog us again with a lath. And if someone complained about us doing the same, God save us. I don’t know why Baba always felt that other’s sons could never misbehave. His sons were at the root of all evil!

In response to this, Captain Nambudripad moved his pawn one step ahead and told Captain Hiren

Amazing! Even my father used to smack us with the tip of a coconut frond for the same reason. But here, our government is a silent spectator.

You are right. Our soldiers are dying every day for their wrong policies. Even those for whom we are here, leaving our homes and dear ones, are considering us to be their enemies.

Hiren moved his knight to check Nambudri’s king and said – save your king! Just as Nambudri moved his king by one place, Hiren checked him again using his bishop. The game had picked up tempo. Just then a low cirrus cloud caused a sudden downpour. They had to pick up their chessboard and move inside their tent. Soldier Jaychander too rushed there to bring in the two field chairs and the folding table.

Since the past few days, there have been similar showers each afternoon. It would last for some time and immediately thereafter the sky would be clear. Bright stars would reappear. Standing atop the watch tower, it seemed that there was a steady sky overhead and an oscillating sky, spread across the horizon on all three sides. In that steady sky, even though the stars were fixed, all of them twinkled. But none of the stars in the oscillating sky ever twinkled. They all swayed together to lose their shine and be a part of the combined beauty. It was similar to an army drill or PT, something similar to ‘We shall overcome’.

That day there was a moon in the sky. It was a full moon night. This was the second full moon night since Hiren’s arrival at Batticaloa. On the first full moon night, the sky was overcast in the evening and rained at night. But that day when Hiren had stepped out of his tent to use the toilet, he saw his surroundings flooded with light just before the night would give way to the dawn. Green trees had turned silver. The entire island was shining bright in the moonlight. This place was not even a proper island as on one side about 25-30 metres of its land was attached to the mainland. The coast stretched for about three and a quarter of a kilometre. Surrounded by hills on three sides, this place could be called an isle and not an island. Or it should be just called Batticaloa Army Base which was then occupied by the Indian Army. But the word ‘occupy’ too was a half-truth. They were a part of the peace-keeping troop, and guest army, and hence a separate space was given to them.

The Indian army was occupying three army bases in that country in those days—Jaffna in the north, Trincomalee on the eastern coast, and about ninety kilometres from there, Batticaloa. Colombo was about 150 kilometres south-west from there, situated on the western coast of Sri Lanka. Hiren had never been to Colombo though he did wish to.  

But at that moment, Batticaloa appeared unparalleled to Hiren. On top of the watch tower, with a strong wind blowing, he and Nambudri had to wear pullovers even that summer. The rain had stopped a while back. There wasn’t a speck of cloud in the sky. As moonlight reflected upon the wet trees of that place, which was neither a hill nor an island but a raised platform surrounded by the sea, it resembled Noah’s Ark —that boat in which Noah had collected representatives of all plants and animals during the Great Deluge and had set sail. In that huge ark, crocodiles and gavials basked in the sun. Snakes, mongoose, chameleons, lizards, leeches, earthworms, centipedes, insects and scorpions wriggled about in that space. There was buzzing of honey bees, bumble bees, mosquitoes and house flies. Apart from that there were foxes, rabbits, wild dogs and almost all the varieties of birds and bees. Only, there weren’t any of those large animals like elephants, tigers or bears. Sailing along the sea, this huge ship had just anchored itself on the shores of the small city of Batticaloe in this large island.

The city was going through a violent phase in those days. People were turning into each other’s enemies. Some people had termed this fight as the fight for independence. For the Tamils, who were dominant in this region but a minority everywhere else in Sri Lanka and thus exploited and tortured, this was a war to regain self-respect. But for the dominant race of the Sinhalese, this war was terrorism. A dominant race, in any part of the world, never accepts any uprising against the state power. And that was why this was going to be a long battle. It was not the job of any neutral peacekeeping troop to be able to establish peace in that country.

What happened after that is difficult to express. They saw Jaychander Viran running towards them braving high velocity wind. He was wearing the same khaki shorts and his hairy legs were visible.

Still the Indians came. Otherwise Sri Lankan government would have asked for soldiers from the United States of America. In that case, America would have sent its peacekeeping troops and they would be breathing down India’s neck.

The army by then was aware that it had not been deployed there for fighting, not even to live like soldiers. They were there to just endure the thrashings. They had guns but not the permission to use those. They could use those for self-defence in case of an attack, but that would lead to a court of inquiry. A copy of that report would be sent to the Home Ministries of both India and Sri Lanka. The Indian Home Ministry would then forward that copy to the United Nations, SAARC summits and the Commonwealth Summit. At every stage, one would have to justify the action. During that period the associated officer and the soldiers under him would go through so much harassment that it would make them want to just let go of everything.

The government was aware of this helpless state but it was in a fix too. Therefore in spite of understanding everything, did not take any action.  

Hiren and Nambudripad had named this isle as Noah’s Hill.

And Nambudripad would add to rhyme – here burns our dil (heart)

Hiren used to ponder—here there are no waves, no one to express love and affection, and the heart aches day and night. No one knows the ache that this salt-laden breeze brings, no one knows the ache of separation that a soldier goes through.

His heart would cry at these thoughts.

2

The whole island was bathed in moonlight. Their bodies ached, and several parts had to be bandaged. Anyone else would not have even considered the idea of getting up from the bed and sitting at the top of the watch tower. But both of them were away from their loved ones, and desperate to come out of a terrible situation. Both were in pain both in body and mind. Perhaps that’s why they were enjoying the moonlight so much. Or perhaps, enjoying the moonlight was their only way to hold on to life. Perhaps the solitary moon and its magical presence were gradually spreading through their consciousness. They were silent but their minds were in turmoil, like the delirious ravings of a drunk person.

Huge trees like saal, tamal, banyan, peepul, cedar, jackfruit, coconut, palmyra palm, and beetle nut appeared silver, like some large fishes. Ethereal movements of the big and small silver leaves borne by the briny air touched these two men in pain. Every bush and every creeper seemed to be laden with diamonds and other gems. Uncountable trees with their wet leaves and multi-coloured flowers, under the reflected light of the moon, created this unearthly sight and gave birth to some exceptional moments. And then there was the roaring sea. During full moon nights, seas are generally turbulent.

Thousands of molten moons seemed to be dripping on the vast expanse of waves and it appeared that a moon was riding on the crest of each wave. Or perhaps all around there was a sea of sunflower oil. Words weren’t enough to describe this beautiful sight. Due to the roar of the sea, no sound of the Batticaloe city ever reached there.

The watchtower shook a little and they were immediately on alert.

Nambudripad exclaimed, “Who’s there?”

A reply came from the stairs, “Soldier Jaychander here, sir.”

Jaychander, the soldier assisting them, was a Tamil jawan from the Sri Lankan army. He had brought for them a pot of coffee on a tray. They knew that he would come but one had to stay alert in such foreign lands.

It was over a similar coffee session a few weeks back that they had decided to go for a health run down the path along the coast, at each daybreak. Both of them had one tracksuit and a PT kit each. If they wore a tracksuit one day and washed it, the next day they could wear the PT kit for the run.

Both of them did not have much to do at the base. Nambudripad was a doctor. He sat for a couple of hours in the MI (Medical Investigation) Room in the morning and treated some common health problems of the soldiers. He also had to treat a few bullet wounds. Those who were wounded by bullets shot by the LTTE were evacuated from there the next day or the day after and taken to Chennai via Trincomalli, Jaffna and Pondicherry.

Hiren was in charge of the aircraft ground control. He controlled the Indian aircraft that flew to and from Trincomali and Batticaloe, and the rare helicopter that flew from the southern army bases of Sri Lanka – such as Tandiadi, Helaowa, Tangala, Matara, Gal, Badulla, and Kandy to Batticaloe and vice versa. It was never more than thrice in a day. Mostly once or twice. Throughout the day thereafter there was nothing much to be done. They did not even have permission to go to Batticaloe City or any other place. Hiren could only sit in their tent playing chess with Nambudripad or read old newspapers. That’s why he had eagerly accepted Nambudripad’s proposal of going for the early morning run.

Also Read : Translated Fiction: Art

Then, for the next ten days, they stepped out of their tent before daybreak and started their run along the Kutcha Road to the left of their tent. As they ran, Batticaloe city, a faraway port, ships in the dockyard, the light in the lighthouse—all got wiped away from their vision and they could only see the deep blue sea and a few dim lights in the fishermen’s boats about to go to the sera. At times they were surprised by an owl more than a foot tall, staring at them from a jackfruit or a hog-plum tree.

By the time the eastern sky turned red, they would complete their sprint around the hillock and return to their tent. They would then do some free-hand exercises and rest for a while. Only after that they would shave and take their baths. Such an early morning rigour kept them fit for the rest of the day.

That morning they were a bit delayed in going out. The first rays of the sun had just appeared in the sky. The lights in Batticaloe City had not been put out yet. The lighthouse too was awake. Even the monstrous owl, sitting on a branch of the tamarind tree was staring fixedly at them. But the moment they turned towards the vast sea they saw that the rising sun had painted the water and the sky red. They could also feel the scent of gardenia flowers coming from the hills.

Such a beautiful sight and fragrance had probably reduced their speed. They paused for a few minutes and inhaled deeply that sweet scent. Then they started walking. They had never experienced such a heady smell. On their left were the rocky hills and on their right a steep slope. Rows of mangrove had made the sea water muddy too. There was a turn just hundred metres ahead. Crossing that would be the finishing point of their run. That was the main gate of the Army unit. Nambudripad shook himself up and said, “Come on Hiren, start doubling again.”

They resumed their run. Just as they crossed the last turn, they saw three lungi-clad boys standing beside the road. And they saw something shining. Hiren was on the right side. All three of them started firing from their sten gun simultaneously.    

Hiren immediately acted upon his reflex. He pushed Nambudripad towards the sea and himself jumped into the water too, getting injured by the pointed ends of the mangrove plants in the process. Hiren did not know whether the firing continued even after that or if it stopped once they jumped into the water. But for how long could one remain underwater? At one point of time, he was forced to raise his head to breathe and then he noticed that there was no one on the banks. All the three boys had left. He looked at the water and found it to be red in patches. He felt queasy. Where was Nambudripad? Hiren once again dived underwater and desperately searched for him. After a couple of minutes, he found his friend. He somehow managed to drag him to the shore and found him unconscious. His white PT kit had turned red. Where did the bullet pierce him? Was Nambudri even alive? With a lot of effort, Hiren managed to carry Nambudri on his shoulder and climb up across the mangroves and pebbles. He felt severe pain in the cuff muscle of his left leg.

By then, the jawans too had heard the gunshots and came running from the army base. Some of them took Nambudri off Hiren’s shoulder and carried him towards the base. Two more soldiers had reached with a stretcher. They carried Hiren on a stretcher.

Hiren felt dizzy while they carried him back. He too had lost a lot of blood. His entire body had received cuts and gashes and they were severely hurting now. Still, he could not understand whether he had received any bullet injury or not. He remembered his mother’s face. Bratati’s face too appeared before his eyes. And then he remembered the unwavering gaze of that one-and-a-half-foot-tall owl. Thereafter everything turned dark.

3

Hiren opened his eyes to see his helper Jaychander Viran sitting on a folding stool in the MI room. The moment he opened his eyes, Jaychander stood up. His tear-stricken face showed a glimpse of happiness. Nambudripad too was lying on a bed beside him. Both of them were being administered saline drip. Near the door Detachment Adjutant Captain Barua and Tiger (this was how the Commanding Officer was addressed by the jawans of the field area) Colonel Naidu (Field Colonel, actually he was the Lieutenant Colonel) were engaged in some serious discussion with the MI Room Senior J.C.O. Jaychander whispered to inform that it was senior J.C.O, Subedar Sarkar who had taken out the bullets from Nambudripad’s thigh and buttocks. Hiren had received a bullet in the cuff muscle just below the knee. Sarkar had taken that out as well. Subedar Sarkar was held in quite high esteem as an experienced nursing assistant. The jawans even called him daktarsaab.

Nambudripad too regained his consciousness after a while.  As Jaychander was filling them in, Col Naidu said something to the adjutant. Then, without even meeting them, he left that place. His face looked grim. Hiren held his breath. After the Detachment Commander left, Subedar Sarkar and Captain Barua quickly entered that room. Nambudripad then started talking to Subedar Sarkar to understand what medicines and injections had been given to them. Then he wrote out the prescription and explained the subsequent injections and medicines required.

After senior G.S.O. left, Captain Barua cleared his throat. His discomfort was evident. He was junior to both of them. In a subdued manner, speaking in a low voice he informed them that Tiger was furious with both of them for not taking prior permission for their morning runs. On his advice, the very next morning an aircraft controller and a doctor would be flying to the base in Cheetah Helicopter, from the Joint Operation Cell in Chennai. That helicopter would also take them back to the military hospital in Chennai. Once they recover, a court of inquiry would be conducted against them. Hearing this, both of them were scared. They knew that a court of inquiry for a charge like this would mean a lot of trouble.                                                                                                                                                 

In the surreal moonlight, that night, saal, tamal, cyder, coconut, Palmyra palm, betel nut and sundari trees appeared to be all silver. Bushes, shrubs creepers and the flowers that bloomed at night seemed to be like diamonds and other gems. The vegetation with its variously shaped leaves and flowers, drenched in the evening shower had created an incredible sight. They were sitting in melancholy, in the watch tower, with bandage all over their bodies and a molten moon dripping over huge waves. It was much better to bear pain in that silent altitude than lying down on their beds.

At that point soldier Jaychander brought coffee for them. After serving he suddenly went down on his knees in front of them. And then he spoke in Tamil, “They were not right to shoot at God-like persons as the both of you.”

Jaychander felt it to be his shame. Nambudripad’s mother tongue was Malayalam but he could understand and speak Tamil quite well even though the Tamil spoken here was slightly different. In this base, soldier Jaychander was the only one from the Sri Lankan army. His father too had worked for the Sri Lankan Army. In the hillock, just behind this base, they had their own house which was quite big. The house had a strong plinth and mud walls. It had an eight-roofed ceiling made of asbestos. His wife, Sridevi was from Jaffna. His mother was a Jaffna girl too. They had a son and a daughter. Probably for all these reasons his officers had shown him sympathy and kept him attached to the Indian army. Initially, the two of them had their doubts that Jaychander was stationed there to spy on them. But later, observing Jaychander’s simplicity, they realised that his attachment was purely on humanitarian grounds. His dedication to serving them was unforgettable. Particularly for the ten to twelve hours immediately after they had been shot, Jaychander had been taking care of them as if he was a part of their family.

The next morning when both of them were waiting at the helipad with their bag and baggage, Jaychander brought his wife and two children there. Both Nambudripad and Hiren affectionately caressed the children. The boy was somewhere between eight to twelve years old, and the girl was approximately four. When their helicopter arrived, there were tears in the eyes of the Veeran couple. Seeing them, Hiren and Nambudripad’s eyes welled up too.

4

The major disturbance caused in the sea-bed of Sumatra and the abyss of the Indian Ocean had now claimed more than three lakh lives in various South Asian countries. Hiren thought man remains unaware of many things till he is under some vicissitude. He said – even five days back the term tsunami was unknown to me.

Nambudri replied – I had heard of it. Japanese use this term for the high waves that lash upon the shore due to earthquakes. But never in my dreams did I imagine that it could be so terrible.

Travelling from Chennai via Pondicherry and Nagapattam, they distributed relief materials at Sri Lanka’s Jaffna, Chandikulam, Mulaitivu, Kokolai, Trinkomali and Katiravelli and had reached somewhere near Batticaloe. Hiren reflected – yes!

This was the same Batticaloe which they had left with tears in their eyes and had promised to never return. But in the face of such an appalling calamity, they had to come back, almost after sixteen or seventeen years, on humanitarian grounds.

At that time both of them had to face rank reduction as punishment. Yet, Nambudripad was now Lieutenant Colonel and Hiren a Flight Lieutenant. It was due to the relief operation that they were meeting again after several years. Despite all the hardships, both of them were enjoying each other’s company.

Their job this time was to load the relief packets from the ship of the Indian Navy in the high sea, sailing parallel to the sea coast, and distribute them among the victims of the disaster. Even now the waves were riding high. Compared to the coast, the high sea area was calmer. This was a fight for life against death, a fight against epidemics. For them, the most important duty at that moment was to stand beside the people of their neighbouring country. From their helicopter, they saw that the army base surrounded by dense mangrove forest had been separated from the mainland. Eyes could not bear to look at the city of Batticaloe and its adjacent villages belonging to the Tamil fishermen.

Corpses of men and women, young and old, strewn all over like dead insects, appeared even more dreadful from the sky. No one knew how a few hundred people had managed to gather upon the hillock just behind the city. Hiren and his companions gave them the rations. While flying over the city, they could not see any living being on the roof of any two-storeyed or three-storeyed building. There were just dead bodies. These people had scaled the heights with an ardent desire to survive. But tsunami had attacked again and again to snatch away countless lives, putting an end to the terror that life had become.

Those who were alive had tears in their eyes, and fear written all over them. All the survivors had lost some of their close ones or the other. There were more people lost to the waves than those alive. Such was the condition that there was no difference between a swimmer and a non-swimmer. Those who had survived were living a life of nightmare. They had gathered atop that low hill and were objects of amazement.

Though Hiren and Nambudripad were a part of the troop that had once taken their leave from Batticaloe with tears, now they considered taking their MI 17 helicopter to give them ration packets a second time. They geared themselves up.

On their way back, Hiren gave the order for low flying over the isolated army base. Then, noticing something, he asked the young pilot Flight Lieutenant Puntamaker to land there. They landed there within five minutes and Hiren asked the pilot to switch off the engine. Then taking the food packets and some essential medicines along with them, Nambudripad, Hiren and two other crew members got down from the helicopter.

What happened after that is difficult to express. They saw Jaychander Viran running towards them braving high velocity wind. He was wearing the same khaki shorts and his hairy legs were visible.

Hiren was astounded. Was he seeing it right? Nambudripad too became emotional. Both of them rushed towards him. But Jaychander could not recognise them even after coming close. His hungry eyes eagerly kept watching them. And just at that moment, Hiren realised that this young man could never be Jaychander. No one could look the same after so many years. Moreover, this boy was even younger. He asked the boy—“Jay-chan-der? Sri-de-vi?”

Hearing those names, the boy kept staring at him blankly, and then tears welled in his eyes. He pointed towards the sea and turning his lips inside out, moaned deeply. This grief was contagious. Hiren’s eyes too filled with tears. He could feel an emptiness within. The young man was by then howling something in Tamil which Nambudripad was trying his best to understand. Due to the terror of the tsunami, the Sri Lankan army had left that army base with all their belongings to move to a place some 5-6 kilometres further away from the sea. Jaychander, Sridevi and their daughter were among the initial victims of this calamity.

Now, on this disconnected island, this young boy was all alone. Nambudripad said, “Come, let us take you there.” The boy asked, “Where, sir?” Nambudripad replied, “To the relief camp”. The boy shook his head and said, “No, we shall stay here only.”

Behind him, three dogs were shaking their tails, a few monkeys hanging from the branches, a rabbit peeping from the grass. And wriggling around him were a few snakes of various sizes, newts, chameleons, frogs, millions of trees, a thousand unknown species of birds, and multiple kinds of insects.

Translated by Nabanita Sengupta

Designed by Navoneel Kanjilal


An academic, translator, and creative writer, Dr. Nabanita Sengupta teaches in Sarsuna College in Kolkata. She has co-edited anthologies of critical essays titled Understanding Women’s Experiences of Displacement and Female Narratives of Protests. Her published translations are Chambal Revisited: and A Bengali Lady in England. She has been variously published in multiple anthologies, journals and e-zine, and has presented papers in India and abroad. Her latest publication is her anthology of poetry, In-between Selves.

Weekly Newsletter

Enjoy our flagship newsletter as a digest delivered once a week.

By signing up, you agree to our User Agreement and Privacy Policy & Cookie Statement.

Read More

Subscribe to get newsletter and to save your bookmark